


Nice to meet you

by CabiriaMinerva



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Lizzington - Freeform, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7993414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CabiriaMinerva/pseuds/CabiriaMinerva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After he has rescued Elizabeth from Kirk, Red gives her what she wants and vanishes. Ten years later, Red comes back to Washington for the first time and bumps into a little girl with green eyes.</p>
<p>This Lizzington story was based on a Fan Fiction Prompt from the Facebook group: The Blacklist: Lizzington Forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice to meet you

**Nice to meet you**

 

 

He hasn’t been in Washington in years. Almost ten, to be precise. Not since…

He chews a bit the inside of his cheek.

Not since she’d come back after her «death». He’d rescued her – of course he had – and then, when she was back home, her child in her arms and friends taking care of her, he’d given her what she had wanted.

_«I’m so sorry, Elizabeth. You should never have come to the point of faking your own death and perturb the lives of so many just to feel safe again.» He had said, not really sure there wasn’t some anger behind his words. And he had left. She had stood there, silent, her big blue eyes wide open and full with something he hadn’t been able to see, his back already to her. Of course, she had apologized when he’d finally found her, she had stuttered words of explanation. But it had been too late, for both of them –«There’s just so much a_ relationship _can survive, isn’t it, Lizzy?» He had smiled._

After that, he had avoided Washington, sending Dembe in his stead when his business in the area had required attention. To be perfectly honest, he still doesn’t know what had brought him here, now, after all those years. He had been in Hong Kong, dealing with some fine member of the Triad when the sudden desire – no, the urge – to see Washington again had hit him. Maybe it had been the spring, and the memory of the blossoming trees of a nice, small park in which he used to take walks with _her._

The same park where he is now strolling with Dembe at his side, an ice cream each. The thought of how _normal_ they look is almost comic, but there is something, in the fresh air and the greenish light that passes through the newborn leaves, that makes him somehow nostalgic, thus he walks in silence.

At some point, he briefly closes his eyes and lets himself flooded with the chattering of the people, the laughter of children, the barking of dogs, the –

Something hits him and stops the lazy, trivial thoughts.

«Ouch!»

No, not something. Someone. Someone small, considering it has hit against his thigh. He opens his eyes and smiles down to a little girl.

_Ah, children. What a wonderful world would it be, were we to have their energies and innate joy._

«I’m sorry, sir.» She says, looking around as if checking that her parents didn’t catch her bumping into a stranger because she wasn’t being careful enough.

«Don’t worry, child. As long as you’re not hurt…» He frowns a bit. «Which you’re not, are you?»

«No, sir. But I’m sorry I hit you. You know, I was showing my friend that _I_ am a better runner than he is, even if I’m a girl.» She looks up for the first time, making a satisfied face and a smile that reaches her green eyes.

And he freezes. And he feels his heart skipping a beat.

And then he hears her.

«Agnes? Agnes! Where are –» The sentences remains incomplete as the woman looking for the little girl finds her in his company.

«Mommy!» She runs to her mother, who’s slowly moving closer to where he stands, her face suddenly pale. «I’m sorry, I was just showing Brian that I can run faster than him.» She frowns. «Mommy?»

They’re close now, his heart is racing, her lips slightly parted as if she wants to say something but just doesn’t know what.

«Hallo, Elizabeth,» graciously, Dembe saves them both and says the first words, cordial as ever and, if he’s somehow surprised to see her, he doesn’t show.

«Hi,» she breaths.

He doesn’t know how to repeat that same little syllable, _hi_ , and if it’s as if all of his bravado, all of his charm has vanished for a few seconds. He swallows.

«Mommy, may I go back playing with Brian?» Elizabeth looks down and discovers she is squeezing her hand.

«Oh, yes… yes, go on. But don’t go too far.» She watches her little girl running away, almost dreading the moment she has to turn.

«Elizabeth…»

_He speaks_. She has waited years to hear his voice again, reproaching herself her decisions and regretting the moment she had pushed just a little bit too much and whatever was keeping him glued to her in spite of, well, her, had broken. She turns, and he seems to notice that her eyes are glossier, now.

«Red.» When she says his name he briefly closes his eyes, looking as if he’s savoring it. «It’s been…» _Long? Too long? Too many damn years?_

«Yes, it has been.» His eyelids lift and a shivers runs down her spine when those eyes, of the same green of Agnes’, meets her. And she knows he _knows_. He has seen her, now that she’s lost her baby blue eyes a long time ago, and he must know.

«Lizzy…» At that, she has to resist the urge to run into his arms, knowing that it wouldn’t be right, knowing that he must be hurting like hell right now and that he has no rights to demand solace in his warmth. «Please, tell me I’m wrong.» He sounds pained and she hates herself a little, wishing for once he would simply yell his rage at her, for that would be easier to bear. But like that... she can't even find an excuse to lift her walls and walk away without an explanation.

She silently stares at him, tormenting her lower lip.

«How could you do that?»

She almost hears him crash and crumble inside and it takes all she's got not to give in to the tears that are demanding to be shed.

«I did what I thought was best, what _I had to_ ,» she manages to say in spite of the lump that has now taken residence in her throat.

Behind his eyes are darting millions of emotions, of thoughts... if she listens carefully, she might hear them. Not that she needs to, she knows what he's thinking – he still knows him too well for his own good. And he's thinking about the first steps he's missed, the first words that he'll never know now, the feeling of her little finger on the nape of his neck while she's giggling some secret.

And he's thinking that she did do the right thing, for he's a tainted man, unworthy of such pureness. He'd have only brought them grief and sorrow.

Still, he mourns all that he's lost in those ten years.

«I'm sorry...» She doesn't know what else to say.

«You don't have to apologize.» His voice is dry, and she knows it's his defense mechanism: he's putting on his masks. Dembe knows that as well and frowns, knowing that later tonight he'll be drinking the pain away. He hasn't spoken a word except his greeting, but she knows he's disappointed in her because she has made Red suffer, and somehow disappointed in Red because had he been another kind of man, had he kept in touch, had he... Still, he says nothing. If he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t show.

«Don't you dare shut me out again, not now.» Maybe that came out more sharp that she intended to, but what the hell. It had all began just like that, with him distancing himself from a situation almost similar to this one.

His cheek twitches. «You're one to talk about shutting out.»

Yes! Yes! The rage. Not too visible, but she can still sense it, somewhere underneath his placidness. Still, she knows he's right, and it stings inside.

«I tried to tell you. I came to you, I told you I was pregnant and I tried to tell you.» Her lips are trembling. Ok, she wanted _his_ rage, not her own. The last thing she needs is to explode in the middle of the park and in front of her daughter.

«You tried so hard, you had no problem letting me believe it was Tom's. Oh, how is he, still living the fairytale?» he spits out bitterly.

«He was gone no long after you vanished. I couldn't let him...» … _touch me, raise your child, tell her to call him daddy, keep her little hands in his own._ She shrugs. «And you were so eager to believe it was his, to tell me what a big mistake that was... You didn't want what went with a child, and I simply went with it.»

Red pales at her words. «That was not my intention, Lizzy, I would never –»

«I know,» she interrupted him. «I know that, now. And I knew that the moment she was born and you were so desperate to see her, even if you thought she wasn't yours.» _Please, please, please don't cry._ She takes a deep breath. «But it was too late. You were convinced Tom was the father and I foolishly thought, hey, that might not be such a bad idea. I was hurting, and confused by the pain and the drugs and the entire damn situation. So I followed the voice inside that was screaming I had to make it better for the little creature I was keeping in my arms, that _I needed_ to bring her away from the world we lived in. And then… then you said you’d give me what I wanted, and it really wasn’t what I wanted at all. So I told Tom that Agnes wasn’t his and I sent him away. And I looked for you, because you _had to know_ , but I never stood a chance to find number four on the FBI’s Most Wanted list, did I?» She feels one tear running down her cheek. _Damn._ «By the way, it was a bad idea. A terrible idea.» She manages somehow to smile – a shy, small smile. Still, a smile.

They stare at each other for a few moments. Funny enough, one would think that anger and yelling would be the protagonist of such a moment, instead there is just an aura of sadness and regret.

_What if I looked more carefully._

_What if I told the truth._

_What if I stayed._

_What if I said_ don't go.

«It was a terrible idea, and I'm so sorry, Red... So damn sorry, and I know it's not enough, and I know you would have been there for her, if not for me.» _Good work at keeping it together, Scott._ «And I know you have all the reasons to hate me for what I've robbed you of.»

He should hate her. It seems reasonable, after all. He should yell, and threaten her, and be the monster that he is and take _his_ daughter.

But how could he?

After all these years, he’s still haunted by images of her, by memories of her smile, of her scent… somewhere, in a book he carries around wherever he goes, he’s hidden a photo, a photo that he’d pull out on those night where it was all too much and the scotch kept filling his glass.

After all these years, he – the great _Concierge of Crime_ – was still heartbroken over her – funnily enough, the end of their “relationship” hadn’t even been the worst. Yet, he couldn’t seem to let go.

«I… understand, Lizzy, I do. I may not completely accept or condone what you did, but I do understand.»

After all these years, he feels as if they said their goodbye just a few minutes before. He barely registers his feet moving, his hand brushing away a lock of hair from her eyes. «And I’m sorry I made you feel like you needed to pretend and that you weren’t safe.» He says nothing about Tom, because… what could he say that she doesn’t know already? «And I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. I should have known better.»

By now, Dembe has slowly retreated, going to talk with Agnes and his friend, listening to their fantastic stories and giving the two of them some well-needed time.

«How could you have known?»

«That you’d look for me? I couldn’t, but I told you I’d always be there for you when you were in need. And I wasn’t.» She’s crying, now, and he thinks he’s crying too, his sight a bit blurred and his voice raspy.  «My beautiful, strong Lizzy…» He leans down, letting his breath brush over her lips.

She gasps.

A few seconds later, they’re both looking down at their now intertwined hands, wondering how that happened, for they should be screaming and weeping and hating each other right now. But they aren’t. They can’t be.

«I’ve come here almost every day for ten years, now,» she admits in a whisper, making his heart jump in his throat. „You were never there.»

«I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to stay away if I ever come to Washington again, that I would _have to_ get a glimpse of you and your baby girl and ruin your normal life. I’m still not sure what brought me here today.»

«Whatever it is, I’m glad you listened to it.»

They’re so close, their lips almost touch when they talk, when they all but whisper their _I’ve missed you_.

But now it’s neither the time nor the place.

She clears her throat, finding it difficult to divert her gaze from his eyes. «Would you…» She’s almost shy, and he thinks she’s never been as kissable as in this exact moment. «Would you like to meet her? Like… really meet her, not just being run over by her.» She attempts a smile that he gladly returns.

«I would like that very much, Lizzy.» His voice is hoarse and full of emotions, and it sends shivers down her spine, reminding her of the times he’d talked like that, his lips hovering over her ears…

_This is a discussion we should have. Later. At my place. With definitely less people around._

She feels giddy all of a sudden, a giggle threatening to wash over her tears. She feels ten years younger, maybe even more.

The grin he gives her reveals that he’s aware of what she’s thinking, probably thinking something similar as well.

And he is, images of the nights they’d spent together whirling around in his mind. But now he’s more urgent business, so he turns, never leaving her hand, and they join the children and Dembe, who smiles upon seeing their fingers interlaced.

«Agnes?» The child turns with a questioning look as she calls her. Elizabeth looks up and smiles at him, suddenly realizing how normal they must be looking to everyone else, Agnes included. «There’s someone I’d like you to meet…»

He kneels down and extends his hand. «Hi, Agnes, I’m Red. And you can’t even imagine how nice it is to finally meet you.»


End file.
